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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924986">In Sickness and In Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/LuvnTheJukebox'>LuvnTheJukebox (GalahadsGurl)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Sick Character, Sick Luke Patterson, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:00:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/LuvnTheJukebox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Luke got sick in the Nineties, and 1 time Luke got sick in 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(past), Alex &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex/Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>279</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Sickness and In Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys, this is a one-shot. I have NOT forgotten Melody - I just . . . this was a bribe for a friend so she would finish her homework and get some sleep, so . . . *shrugs* I hope you enjoy and I can't wait to hear what you think. </p><p>Thanks all!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <a href="https://imgur.com/23Q6S6c">
      
    </a>
  </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p> - October 30th, 1994 - </p>
</div>Alex Mullen had been friends with Luke Patterson and Reggie Carter since the fifth grade. The two idiots had been inseparable since kindergarten and everyone had told him not to hold his breath with those two - they didn’t let <b>anyone</b> join their twosome. To the shock of everyone, though - not the least to the shock of Alex - the two younger boys had folded Alex into their group like a puzzle piece they’d lost at some point and were relieved to have found once again.<p>After six years he thought he’d seen all of their quirks. He knew Luke struggled to focus in classes that didn’t interest him, too distracted by the chords and lyrics running through his head. He knew Reggie could ace any test set before him, but never paid attention in class. He knew about Luke’s dyslexia. He knew about Reggie’s abandonment issues. They knew about his own battle with anxiety. </p><p>He knew what Luke’s smile tasted like - cheap chapstick and the sharp sting of peppermint - and enjoyed getting to taste it whenever he wanted to. </p><p>It was now, though, watching his boyfriend stumble down the hall that Alex came to a very important realization. </p><p>He did <b>not</b> know what his friends were like when they were sick. When they were all kids, their parents kept them home when they were sick and didn’t let them play. He’d never seen either of his friends full-on, “I’m the kind of miserable where I wish I was dead” sick. At least, not until now. Luke looked almost as pale as the paper he scribbled his lyrics onto, two bright spots of color painted across his cheekbones, as he hunched in on himself on his way towards his locker. Even from where he stood, Alex could see the small bubbles of gooseflesh on his bare arms, and the blond rolled his eyes at the ceiling in a bid for patience. </p><p><i>God, why is my boyfriend an idiot?</i> </p><p>Honestly, any other parents would have insisted on keeping a sick teenager at home. And any other <b>normal</b> teenager would have taken the sick day, vegging out and watching television and sleeping as much as they wanted. Emphasis on the <b>normal</b> part. </p><p>Because apparently, if your name was Lucas Patterson and you had a gig in two days - even if you were dying you were so sick - you came to school. Because if you didn’t go to school, your parents wouldn’t let you practice with the band. Alex’s mouth twisted as he cussed under his breath, “Damn it.” </p><p>Reggie snorted a little, tone amused as he joked, “Yeah, not it, my man.” </p><p>Alex gave the bassist a dry look, before knocking his own fist against the fist Reggie offered in farewell. “We’ll see you in class?” </p><p>“Yeah I’ll cover for you,” he promised, glancing back towards Luke. “Better hurry though - you know how Old Man Mathers feels about people coming in late.” </p><p>Acknowledging the statement, Alex moved away from the wall and into the press of students on a beeline for the other teenager. Luke leaned against the locker beside his own open one, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest as he used the other to unload his bookbag into his locker. “What are you doing?” the blond demanded, stepping close and intentionally crowding Luke against the locker. </p><p>Considering the relief that flooded across Luke’s face at the action, Alex’s supposition that he’d been about to collapse hadn’t been wrong. “Hey Alex,” he greeted the older teenager, that perfect smile of his a little lopsided despite his sincere attempt to pretend nothing was wrong. “Getting ready for school?” </p><p>“Luke, I meant why are you <b>at</b> school?” </p><p>“Because if I don’t come to school, Mom and Dad won’t let me practice?” the brunet snarked with the softly grumpy face he knew Alex had never been able to resist. </p><p>Not that Alex didn’t make a sincere attempt at trying to. Reaching up to lay a palm over Luke’s forehead, he cursed again at the heat radiating from his skin. “You’re sick, Lucas. Go home.” </p><p>“The gig is in two days, Alexander,” Luke protested in almost a whine, his shoulders stiffening stubbornly as he grabbed a pair of books out of his locker and shoved them into his backpack. “I’m fine.” </p><p>“You’re not gonna be fine in two days when you can’t talk and therefore can’t sing, you idiot.” </p><p>“Aw, Alex,” the other teen teased with a smirk, “I knew you cared.” </p><p>Glancing discretely around the hall, relief swelled at the realization they were almost completely alone in the hallway. His thumb trailed down against Luke’s cheek, earning a soft moan from the younger boy before the hand dropped between them to grab at Luke’s own. “Luke . . . you know I care about you. This is why I know that if you're better in two days, your mother isn't going to make you skip our gig because you were genuinely sick.” </p><p>“She said if I missed school even one more time, she’d forbid me from the band,” Luke begged, eyes bright with desperation and fever as he clutched Alex’s wrist. “I can’t . . . it’s the <b>band</b>, Alex.” </p><p>The two stared at each other for a long time, linked only by Luke’s grip around Alex’s wrist, before the taller teenager caved. Again. “Oh, I’m gonna regret this,” he groaned, shucking his backpack off his shoulder and dropping it at his feet for a moment, before stripping off the oversized brown flannel coat he was wearing. His little sister called this “Mom Mode” - a voice in the back of his head, that he deliberately ignored as he forced Luke into the plaid, scolding in the long-suffering tone he'd long perfected with these two idiots he called his friends,  “You look like you’re freezing.” </p><p>Luke’s eyes glowed a little, his fingers fiddling with the front hem of the plaid as Alex bent to retrieve both of their backpacks once again. He looked awed and a little scared, his voice shaking a little as he tried to joke, “Does this mean we’re boyfriends now?” </p><p>Alex threw his arm around Luke’s neck, pulling the shorter boy into a quick kiss, even as he muttered, “You idiot.” Handing him his backpack, he waited for Luke to pull it on before tucking him under his arm and steering him towards the bathroom. “Come on - let’s see what we can do about your face if you’re so determined to stay. Mathers is gonna take one look at those rosy cheeks of yours and send you to the nurses’ office.” </p><p>Leaning into the taller boy without argument, Luke let his head rest against Alex’s shoulder for a second, tone soft and very not-Luke-like as he insisted, “Thanks, Alex.” </p><p>“Yeah yeah,” he sighed, bending his head to press a quick kiss to his burning forehead. “I’m a sucker for you - don’t rub it in.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> - December 17th, 1994 - </p>
</div>Reggie didn’t really know what the hell woke him. He’d fallen asleep listening to his parents screaming at each other from the living room. His two older brothers had gone out with some of their friends, leaving Reggie to deal with whatever fallout came from the fight. Fortunately, it didn’t sound like anything had been broken, and the house was silent now.<p>Which begged the question - what woke him? </p><p>Another soft knocking sound pulled Reggie all the way up, whirling in the direction of the window behind him. There, framed in the glass, was a blue-lipped and shivering Luke, guitar slung across his shoulders along with a single backpack. Dressed in only a cream-colored long sleeve and his trademark orange beanie, the younger boy had to be freezing. “Holy . . . what the hell?” he breathed, in no little shock. </p><p>After a moment of staring at him, he jolted into action at the sight of a particularly violent shudder shaking Luke’s frame from head to toe. Suddenly aware of Luke’s precarious perch - the edge of the roof outside of Reggie’s second-story room was not a good place to fall from - the bassist scrambled over and shoved the sash up. Rolling his eyes as Luke shoved the guitar case at him first, Reggie dumped it off the end of the bed before reaching out to help Luke climb all the way into the room. “What the hell, Lucas?” he snapped, channeling Alex’s “Mom Mode” as he shoved Luke onto the mattress and proceeded to practically drown him under blankets. “It’s forty-five degrees outside, dude! Where the hell is your coat?” </p><p>“Backpack,” Luke replied through chattering teeth, rolling to his side and curling up fetal style, with his bone-white fingers peeking out from the edge of the blankets to pull them tighter around him. “Sorry, man - I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” </p><p>Sick pride swelled a little at that. Luke and Alex had been dating for about four months, but instead of going to his boyfriend’s house for refuge, he’d come here. Just like old times. Which begged the question about what Luke was doing at his place anyway - whatever had happened, Reggie would bet his bass it had something to do with the younger boy’s parents. </p><p>Reggie had never had a good relationship with his parents - they weren’t abusive, just neglectful - so he’d never really understood the contentious relationship Luke had with his parents over music. He remembered Ms Emily and Mr Mitch being really awesome parents when they were kids in elementary school together. It hadn’t started to get bad until they bought Luke his first guitar at the age of ten and Luke had decided he wanted to be a musician. The beginning of the end, as they say. Settling onto the edge of the bed next to his best friend, Reggie used one hand to rub briskly across the other teenager’s back in an attempt to warm him up. “What happened, man?” </p><p>For a long time, Luke didn’t speak and after a while, Reggie wondered if he’d say anything at all. Content to wait, though, Reggie shifted a little to put his back against the headboard and continued to rub over his friend’s back, touch turned soothing instead of warming. Whatever happened, his friend was on the edge of tears - for all that they joked about Alex being the melodramatic one in the band, Luke had always been the one more likely to get emotional and overwhelmed. </p><p>All the while, the youngest member of Sunset Curve shivered and shook under the pile of blankets, teeth chattering and eyes clenched tightly closed. Finally, moments before Reggie would have fallen asleep, Luke spoke, “I ran away.” </p><p>“I’m going to remind you it’s forty-five degrees outside, man,” Reggie sighed, no real force behind the scold. “You couldn’t have run away tomorrow afternoon, when it was sixty out and you weren’t in danger of freezing to death? You <b>know</b> how you get at Christmas.” </p><p>The winter weather around Christmastime had never been kind of Luke Patterson. Reggie had literally never met anyone as likely as Luke to catch a fever around this time of year. Eyes rolling again, Reggie moved to his closet for more blankets - they’d all be lucky if Luke didn’t end up in the hospital the next day with a high fever and projectile vomiting. He shuddered - ugh, vomiting. Gross. </p><p>“I know,” Luke whispered, sounding wretched and miserable at the scold. “Mom and I had a fight. She’s forbidding me to play the Christmas gig, Reggie. She and Dad want me to quit the band.” </p><p>That being the first time Reggie had ever heard Luke make that statement, he froze. Ms Emily had never really been happy about Luke’s determination to be a musician, but she’d never actively set out to stop him; instead setting out rules and guidelines Luke was required to follow in order to be allowed to practice and perform at gigs. </p><p>No cutting school. No grades below a C plus. Home before two in the morning after a gig, with zero exceptions. The kinds of things most parents would impose on their children to keep them safe. But Luke quitting the band - the idea felt like a punch to the solar plexus. Luke lived and <b>breathed</b> the band. Making him quit the band would have been unbearable for him, not unlike the loss of a limb. </p><p>“Damn, Luke,” Reggie sighed, piling more blankets over him and then moving into the en suite to grab the thermometer just in case. “That sucks. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“I knew it was coming,” Luke replied dismissively, though the hurt buried deep within the words might as well have been a klaxon to Reggie. The two had simply been friends for too long for him not to notice. “I just . . . I can’t lose the band.” </p><p>“You’re not gonna lose us, man,” Reggie promised, ruffling his hair fondly. “You’re probably going to lose your dinner, though. So I’m warning you now; you vomit on me, I’m going to kick your ass.” </p><p>Luke chuckled, grin a bright slash of white across his face for a moment before he cuddled up further under the blankets. “No, you won’t.” </p><p>Staring at the younger boy as Luke’s eyes grew heavy then finally slipped closed and stayed that way, Reggie tucked the blankets around him one more time with a sigh. “No, I won’t.” Ruffling that dark hair and pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, he insisted, “Sleep well, man. You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> - March 5th, 1995 - </p>
</div>Alex and Reggie recognized the signs by this point. When they arrived at the studio to find Luke still asleep on the couch that made up his bed, curled up in Alex’s brown plaid - now Luke’s brown plaid and no, Alex <b>really</b> didn’t want it back, thank you - and a single blanket, they exchanged a mortified look. Honestly, how the two had never noticed that Luke could literally get sick at the drop of a hat, neither of them had any idea.<p>Granted, Alex suspected Luke’s newfound susceptibility to illness might be a direct result of the fact that it was still in the mid-fifties at night and Luke was sleeping on a couch in their studio instead of his parent’s well-heated home across town. Glancing at Reggie, the two eyed each other for a long moment, before throwing out their hands for a quick game of Rock Paper Scissors. “Ha!” Reggie crowed, with a bright grin, his rock crushing Alex’s scissors gleefully. “Not it!” </p><p>“You owe me for this,” Alex groaned, shoving up the sleeves of his pink hoodie, “for the record.” </p><p>“Hey, you lost. Officially not my responsibility this time,” Reggie insisted with a slapdash grin. Eyes turning back to Luke, they narrowed for a moment as he scanned the lightly sleeping guitarist. “I’ll be back - I’m gonna head home and grab a few more blankets. He’s gonna freeze to death if he’s only got that one.” </p><p>“Good plan. And see if you can grab some more of those Chicken Cup O’Noodles,” Alex agreed, pulling open the cabinet to see what they needed before Reggie headed back out to his car. “And some water bottles. Looks like he’s out, and he’s going to need fluids.” </p><p>“On it!” Reggie agreed with a sharp salute. “Have fun with Sleeping Ugly.” </p><p>Alex snorted with a smirk, head shaking in amusement even as the other boy disappeared from the studio. Turning back to the couch, the blond took a seat on the edge as he reached to lay the inside of his wrist against Luke’s forehead. Stirring weakly, those green eyes crept open barely a flinch, before he groaned, “I’m not sick.” </p><p>“Uh-huh, and I’m the Mona Lisa,” Alex snarked in reply. “I mean, I know I’m fabulous, but I’m definitely not <b>that</b> fabulous.” </p><p>“Liar,” Luke replied with a feeble attempt at his usual sunshine grin. "I've always thought you were that fabulous."</p><p>Somedays Alex wondered whether or not he’d done the right thing breaking it off with Luke. The other boy was definitely cute, and an honest to God human puppy, but . . . <b>No!</b> He scolded himself firmly, eyes pressing closed for a second. <i>You’ve always been better as best friends. Both of you agreed to that. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s over.</i> Scoffing, he pinched the other boy’s ear sharply and earned a wince as he scolded, “Flatterer. Why didn’t you come to Reggie’s, Luke? You know you shouldn’t be here when you’re sick - it’s not insulated enough for how cold it's getting at night.” </p><p>“I didn’t feel bad last night when I went to bed,” Luke insisted stubbornly, his features set into a scowl that wouldn’t have even scared a bunny rabbit. “And I’m <b>not</b> sick.” </p><p>Alex leveled a firm look in his direction, obviously conveying his opinion on that when Luke quailed at the sight and cowered back into his bed a little bit. “Honestly, Lucas - only you can be so obviously sick and insist that you’re fine.” </p><p>“I’m just cold.” </p><p>“Uh-huh,” the blond huffed with a roll of his eyes, “Not to mention the fact, your cheeks are bright red, your nose is running, your eyes are watering really badly and you’ve been shivering since Reggie and I walked in ten minutes ago.” </p><p>A hard sniffle was Alex’s only warning before Luke lifted his wrist to try to wipe his nose. Alex grabbed the wrist hard, preventing the action before the sleeve could connect with the green <i>gunk</i> coming out of his nose, scolding firmly, “There are these things called tissues, Luke.” </p><p>“I don’t have any,” he replied with another snuffling sound. </p><p>“Don’t use your sleeve,” Alex ordered briskly, letting the younger teenager go so he could unzip his fanny pack and dig through the contents for a travel pack of tissues. Considering Luke’s ability to catch a cold without a moment’s warning, the drummer had undertaken the responsibility of making sure to always be prepared. “Here. Keep these - I’ll get some more tonight when we take you back to Reggie’s place.” </p><p>“I can’t go back to Reggie’s place,” Luke protested with a pout, looking so pitiful Alex couldn’t help the impulse to reach out and smooth back a sweaty strand of dark hair from his face. He sneezed, the sound small and almost delicate, even as Luke scrunched in on himself. “His parents don’t like it when we stay over, remember?” </p><p>“Well you can’t stay here,” Alex protested with a frown. “And I can’t have you at my place - my parents know we dated, and if I tried to stash you in my room, they’d probably actually kill me this time.” </p><p>“I <b>can</b> stay here, Alex,” the younger teen insisted, pout deepening further, “I’m not sick.” </p><p>“You’re also not an idiot, so you know, there’s that.” </p><p>“I’m not an idi . . . hey!” </p><p>Alex smirked, amused by how adorable Luke looked before he tossed over onto his other side, facing the back of the couch and pulling the covers up over his head to prevent further conversation between them. Slipping his hand under the edge of the blanket, Alex let his hand find the spot just behind Luke’s ear that always ached when he was sick, a headache no doubt building under the spot. </p><p>Luke shivered at the first touch, body uncurling a little at the relief the soothing circles caused. “That feels nice,” he breathed, sounding more congested than he had just a moment ago before letting out another one of his tiny sneezes. “My head hurts.” </p><p>“Of course it does,” Alex scolded gently, pressing a little harder, Luke suddenly relaxing as though all of his muscles turned to water at the touch. “You’re sick.” </p><p>“Am not.” </p><p>“Are too,” he pressed, head shaking at the other’s stubbornness. Interrupting whatever protest Luke had been about to make, he coaxed softly, “If you just admit you’re sick, I can probably get Reggie to bring back a vanilla shake for you to have with your soup.” </p><p>Luke was quiet for a long time, clearly trying to find the catch in this offer. Finding none, he huffed out a defeated breath and confessed, “Fine, ya meanie. I’m sick. Happy?” </p><p>Alex bent to press a quick kiss to the back of the teenager’s head as he snarked, “Happy? No. Relieved that I’m not going to have to fight you tooth and nail now? Yeah, a little bit.” Curling his fingers a little, he scratched soothingly through the short hairs behind Luke’s ear. The action earned a soft purr, before Alex insisted, “Go back to sleep, grumpy cat. Reggie’ll be back soon, okay?” </p><p>A deep breath in precluded the short nod Luke gave in assent. Knowing better than to gloat, Alex accepted the defeat graciously and stood to start tidying up the studio - their practice was obviously canceled, but that didn’t mean he and Reggie couldn’t hang out to keep the guitarist company until they could convince him to let Reggie take him home with him. A soft grunt drew Alex’s attention back to Luke, looking back just in time to catch the tail-end of the smile evident on the half of Luke’s face he could see. “Thanks, Alex.” </p><p>Warmth flooded through him as he promised, “You’re welcome, man. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when Reggie gets back.” </p><p>Snuggling back down into his blankets, Alex watched as Luke’s one visible eye slipped closed as he released as softly sighed, “Okay.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> - July 19th, 1995 - </p>
</div>Reggie watched as their new rhythm guitarist, Bobby Daniels, threw up his hands when Luke spaced out once again in the middle of practice. “Oh, come on, man!” he groaned. “The Orpheum is in <b>THREE</b> days! Get your shit together!”<p>Glancing over at their drummer, Reggie could see the same understanding in Alex’s eyes that he knew must have been on his own. “He’s either going to vomit or he’s going to pass out,” Reggie informed their friend with a smirk. </p><p>Alex’s eyes rolled at the statement, his tone fondly exasperated as he snarked, “Considering how annoying he has been today, I’m really kind of hoping it’s the second one.” </p><p>“Like we could be so lucky.” the bassist joked, pulling his bass guitar free from his shoulder and setting it carefully into its stand. </p><p>Luke’s fingers still moved over the frets of his guitar, though his pick had been missing the strings for a while - all three of his bandmates could see that no one was currently in residence in Luke’s “upstairs”. Bobby reached to grab Luke’s shoulder, shaking him hard and jolting Luke from his meditation state with a shout. “What!?” he demanded, eyes wide and glassy as they scanned the room in search of some explanation for the action. </p><p>“What the hell are you on, huh?” Bobby demanded, shoving his guitar behind him. “Are you high?” </p><p>“No!” Luke snapped back, shoving himself upwards from his stool and almost immediately staggering as the blood rushed to his head and made him dizzy. </p><p>Reggie lunged forward, catching him easily by the biceps and cradling his best friend against his chest as the younger guitarist tried to regain his feet. “Easy, Luke. You’re good, man,” Reggie soothed, one arm locked across his back while his free hand smoothed over the curve of his spine tenderly. Smacking away the hand Bobby reached out - no doubt intending to shake Luke again - Reggie hissed, “Back off, Bobby. He’s sick, all right?” </p><p>Bobby backstepped sharply, putting considerable distance between himself and the two teenagers as Reggie coaxed Luke over to his couch. Luke dropped haphazardly onto the edge of the cushions, bowing forward over his knees with his hands in his hair as the guitarist forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. “Luke?” he questioned quietly, “Talk to me, man. Tell me what’s happening?” </p><p>Alex’s tone was sharp as he called, “Reg! Trashcan!” only moments before Luke moaned out, “I’m gonna hurl, Reg,” </p><p>Reggie grabbed the trashcan by the couch and got it between Luke’s sneakers with barely seconds to spare, as Luke’s body convulsed and he heaved up bile and half-digested noodles into the can. “Ew,” the bassist groaned, turning his face away even as he shifted to smooth his hand along the curve of Luke’s spine once more. “Seriously - we need to get you other things to eat than Cup O’Noodles.” </p><p>“Can’t afford it,” he breathed out through heaves, his hands white-knuckled against his knees as he forced himself not to keel over into his own sick. “We’re barely affording the rent on this place.” </p><p>Reggie’s mouth twisted a little at the reminder, blowing out a huff of air. Behind him, he could hear the hissed argument between Alex and Bobby escalating. Luke hadn’t noticed yet - thank god! - but it took everything Reggie had not to leave his friend’s side, just so he could punch Bobby in the mouth. The hand smoothing over Luke’s back moved separately from his brain as Reggie looked around, trying to find the ugly . . . <i>there!</i> </p><p>Straining sideways, Reggie snatched the ugly brown plaid Luke loved so much from where he’d tossed it over a table to their left. Shaking it out, he tossed it across the cushion beside Luke as he waited for Luke to be sure he was done. Finally, after several minutes without vomit, Reggie questioned, “You done, dude?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Luke breathed, shoulders heaving in air, “I think so.” </p><p>“Let’s get out of this shirt and into a new one okay?” Reggie coaxed, reaching down to maneuver the hem of Luke’s tank up along his torso. Luke helped as much as he was able, though Reggie refused to let him do too much - the last thing they wanted was for whatever had caused Luke to hurl to get upset by Luke moving too much and make him puke again. Honestly, once was enough; at least in Reggie’s opinion. </p><p>Leaving Luke to hold himself sitting up, Reggie moved to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. A moment’s work drenched it in cool water, the washcloth itself passed off to Luke so he could wipe down from the sweat clinging to his skin while Reggie went digging through Luke’s single backpack in search of another clean shirt. The brown plaid was a must - something about the ugly thing had come to mean comfort while sick to Luke ever since Alex gave it to him back in October - but the wool tended to itch if he didn’t wear something under it. </p><p>Turning to face Bobby and Alex once he had Luke’s Poison t-shirt in hand, he watched the two bitch at each other for a long second, before asking, “Is there a problem?” </p><p>“We play the Orpheum in three days,” Bobby snapped hotly, one arm thrown out in Luke’s direction as he continued, “And Sicko over there is vomiting all over the place.” </p><p>“He’s puked once,” Alex snarked with a roll of his eyes. “That’s hardly vomiting all over the place.” </p><p>“I’m so glad you two are so blase about this,” the guitarist sneered. “Look at him! He’s not gonna be able to perform. This is our big break - and I have no intention of giving it up for him.” </p><p>“Okay, first of all,” Reggie snapped, furious on behalf of his best friend, “you’ve been a part of this band for three months. The three of us have been trying to get this gig at the Orpheum for three <b>years</b>.” Prevented from shoving Bobby when Alex slipped between the two, Reggie snarled over the blond’s shoulder as he continued, “Second of all if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, you can take whatever replacement you’re thinking of and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine. Luke doesn’t play, I won’t play.” </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Reginald,” Alex scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “Luke has never been sick for longer than twenty-four hours if that.” Turning hard, cold eyes back on Bobby, he insisted firmly, “He’ll be <b>fine</b> for the Orpheum.” </p><p>Bobby looked back and forth between the two, before ripping free of his guitar and hissing, “He’d <b>better</b> be.” </p><p>Whirling on his heel, the man shoved his guitar into its case then stormed from the studio. “Well, that went well,” Alex snipped, though Reggie barely cared. </p><p>As soon as Bobby was out of sight, Reggie turned back to Luke. The youngest member of the band had pulled the plaid on over his bare chest, curling up on his side with his arms wrapped low around his waist and his eyes tightly closed. He hadn’t bothered to button the plaid, earning a wince from Reggie at the reminder he still held the tee Luke should be wearing under the oversized shirt. “Luke, you asleep?” he questioned cautiously, coming over with the shirt. Nudging the trashcan out of the way, he crouched beside the bed and laid a hand on Luke’s head, “Dude?” </p><p>“I’m awake, Reg,” Luke sighed with a frown. </p><p>“You wanna put your shirt on, huh? The plaid’ll cause a rash if you don’t.” </p><p>The sharp downward pull of Luke’s lips told Reggie that Sunset Curve’s lead singer had sincerely considered telling him off, before pushing upwards with a groan. Shucking the plaid, he accepted the shirt Reggie offered, then pulled the plaid over it once again and laying out again. “You know he’s not wrong.” </p><p>“You’re gonna be fine, Lucas,” Alex scoffed. “You’re always fine in a day or two.” </p><p>Luke’s features turned stubborn and he pouted as he insisted once more, “You <b>know</b> he’s not wrong . . . right?” Green eyes scanned between the two, his tone surprisingly strong considering how sick he looked. “If I can’t play that night, you replace me. Promise me.” </p><p>Reggie stared at his best friend, completely at a loss for words. Fortunately for them all, Alex knew what to say, and ordered brusquely, “Shut up, Luke, and go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”</p>
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  <p> - July 22nd, 1995 - </p>
</div>Luke stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, his guts twisting around themselves as he listened to the paramedics try to save Alex.<p>Honestly, the irony of it all might be the worst part. </p><p>Even before everything fell out with his parents, Luke had a reputation for getting sick at the drop of a hat, and ever since running away from home, he’d honestly spent more time sick than he had been healthy. </p><p>And yet, Luke seemed to be the one most likely to survive whatever twisted fate those hotdogs had in store for his friends. He could feel the pull of dried tears on his cheeks as his head rolled to find Alex, and away from the sheet-covered body on his other side. His best friend passed first - it happened so fast, the paramedics hadn’t even had time to do anything before Reggie flatlined. They’d fought to get him back before the female paramedic pulled the sheet over his face and Luke felt his heart shatter in his chest. </p><p>Currently, Alex looked blue, green eyes wide and panicked as he fought like hell to pull air into his lungs. Watching him struggle felt like hell, and Luke breathed out a sigh of relief when those eyes finally rolled back and the blond fell back to the stretcher, lifeless and unmoving. </p><p>Head rolling back to the ceiling, Luke’s eyes drifted closed, chasing another flood of tears down his cheeks as he tried to imagine a world without his best friends at his side. A world without Sunset Curve. </p><p>Making his choice, Luke took in a deep breath, before blowing it out slowly . . . and letting himself go with it.</p>
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  <p> - September 3rd, 2020 - </p>
</div>Julie walked into the studio, humming Stand Tall under her breath as she dropped her backpack against the studio doors. “Hey guys!” she cheered, looking around to find her three ghosts.<p>Alex smiled at her from where he stood in the loft, leaning on his elbows against the railing, “Hey Julie.” </p><p>Reggie twisted from where he sat on the edge of the couch, the worry in his eyes a direct contrast to the beaming smile on his lips. “Hey, Julie! How was school?” he asked. </p><p>Her eyes furrowed, head cocking a little bit as the lump of blankets atop the couch suddenly moved, as though . . . Stepping forward to get a better look at the sweaty mop of hair she could just make out over the top of the blankets, she questioned worriedly, “Luke!?” </p><p>Drawing the blankets down a little bit, he blinked a few times in response to the brightness of the unshielded room, before his whole demeanor lit up at the sight of her. “Julie!” he husked, his voice gone as though he’d spent the day singing his heart out and not at home - hopefully! - behaving himself and not making any music where her father could hear. Hazy green eyes glowed brightly with fever, his favorite orange beanie pulled down low over his forehead. He looked perfectly comfortable, curled up around Reggie’s hip as though it was an everyday occurrence - which, okay fine, but Julie had <b>questions</b>. He forced a small smile, one corner twisting a little, as he forced out hoarsely, “I’m fine.” </p><p>Alex and Reggie both sounded amused as they insisted together, “He’s sick.” </p><p>"I'm am not sick!" the ghost in question insisted at the same time, Julie echoed, “Sick?!” </p><p>Coming to the couch, she smiled at Reggie as he stood to move out of her way, letting her take his place beside her favorite ghost . . . not that she’d ever tell him that. His ego was large enough, thank you very much. “Can ghosts get sick?” </p><p>“Apparently if their names are Luke Patterson, they can,” Alex chortled, his head shaking as he poofed to the bottom floor of the studio. </p><p>Giving Alex an unimpressed look, she turned her attention back to Luke and smiled to see the adoration in his eyes. “Hey you,” she greeted him, taking the hand he offered into both of her own. Her head cocked as she questioned playfully, “How the hell do ghosts get sick?” </p><p>Luke grinned at her a little, eyes heavy-lidded even as he joked, “Eh, it’s pretty much on brand, at this point.” He attempted to wink at her, both eyelids slipping closed in tandem instead as he insisted through that painful sounding rasp, “I have a <b>reputation</b>.” </p><p>She giggled a little, her thumb stroking across the lifeline in the center of his palm as she teased, “Oh my - this sounds serious.” </p><p>“Very serious,” he agreed with a solemn nod. She didn't know what to call the glow in his eyes other than <b>life</b>, his fingers twisting around her own as the two of them reveled in the ability to touch each other - to hold hands and hug tightly - reaching for each other whenever they felt the need to share space. It was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure, leaving Julie feeling more than a little off-kilter . . . but loving every second of it. </p><p>“Well then,” she agreed, shifting to the head of the couch so he could lay his head in her lap and she could run her fingers through his lovely dark hair, “someone better tell me what’s going on, so I know how to take care of you, <i>pendejo</i>.” </p><p>Luke beamed at her, even as he attempted to pout. Adoration coated every syllable as he protested, “I am not an idiot.” </p><p>“Yes you are,” she insisted, her fingers sketching across the unnatural warmth of his skin. “But hey - you’re my idiot. And I love you a whole helluva lot.” </p><p>That perfect smile slipped across his lips as he looked up into her face, before insisting firmly, “Well, I guess if I’m your idiot, then, it’s probably not so bad.” Nose wrinkling for a moment later, he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat before insisting, “And for the record, I love you a whole helluva lot too.” </p><p>“Good,” she nodded firmly, “because I don’t intend to ever let you go.” </p><p>Eyes slipping closed at the assurance, Luke turned onto his side, pressing his face into her stomach with a soft hum as she continued to run her fingers through his hair and hold him close. Chuckling at the cuddly nature of this boy she loved so much, Julie’s head shook at the wonder of knowing he was hers, before looking up at Reggie and asking, “All right then . . . someone needs to tell me how ghosts by the name of Luke Patterson can get sick.”</p><p>The wicked looks on Alex and Reggie’s faces as they exchanged a conspiratorial look should have clued her in to the mischief they were making. However, with Luke dozing in her lap and her boys settling onto the couch - Alex - and floor - Reggie - beside them, she couldn’t find it in herself to scold. Her band-family was as alive as they could be, and here with her. Honestly, whatever was going on, they were together. </p><p>After all, what more could she possibly want? If this moment was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. And if this was reality . . . reality seemed pretty damned perfect to her.</p>
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